


Messin' Up My Mind, Fillin' Up My Senses

by MadAlien



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst but everything's okay-ish in the end, Arguing, M/M, Patrick says something cruel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21608965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadAlien/pseuds/MadAlien
Summary: Patrick says something he doesn't mean in the middle of an argument.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 197





	Messin' Up My Mind, Fillin' Up My Senses

Patrick doesn’t even really remember what they’re fighting about. All he knows is that it’s gone on too long, he’s exhausted, and he’s riled himself up past the point of normal anger to that kind of rage where he has no real control over the words that come out of his mouth. 

David is ranting in that way he does with wild hand gestures and animated expressions on his face. Patrick normally finds it amusing—endearing, even—but right now he’s just fucking angry, so it pisses him off. 

David won’t stop talking. Why won’t he just be quiet for one minute so Patrick can get his thoughts together and find a logical way to end this ridiculous argument? Just one minute of silence is all he needs. It doesn’t feel like that big of an ask. 

It’s late. Patrick has a headache. The day has been long, just one disaster after another at the store. So when David finally stops talking (Patrick honestly doesn’t really know what he’s been saying, just that it’s more of the same kind of thing he’s been repeating for the last half an hour), Patrick speaks without thinking. “God, David, why do you insist on making everything so much more fucking complicated than it needs to be? And you wonder why you’ve had a hard time getting people to stick around!”

Silence. 

Patrick immediately regrets it, doubly so when he sees the hurt, stricken look on David’s face. 

“David,” he says, quiet and desperate. “David, baby, I—I didn’t mean that. I _don’t_ mean that.”

“I know.” David’s voice is tight, pained. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” 

The mask is up. The one that David uses when he feels hurt or threatened or uncomfortable. The one that is only ever used with strangers or enemies, not with Patrick. Never with Patrick. 

Patrick reaches out to David, and his chest physically twinges when David flinches away from him. He’s never done that before, either.

“Honey—I—what do you need? Do you—do you need a minute? I can go downstairs. Um. If you want.” Patrick is making this worse. He knows this, but he can’t stop spewing words, desperately trying to spin some together that will fix this mess he’s gotten himself into. 

“What, so you can abandon me like everybody else?” David spits. “Because apparently it makes sense that people want to leave me.”

Patrick deserves this, but it still hurts. “No, baby. It doesn’t. I’m sorry, David. I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry, and I don’t know how to make this better. _Please_ tell me how to make this better.” His voice is desperate, bordering on hysterical. 

David just shrugs, and Patrick scrubs his hands over his face in frustration. He’s not frustrated with David but with himself. He’s ashamed that he let himself go so far down the pathway of anger that he allowed himself to say something so senseless, so cruel. Something that was certain to hit David where he’s most tender. 

He’s just like them, Patrick thinks miserably. He’s just like all the people from David’s past who used and abused him. Who belittled him and hurled hateful words in his face and then mocked him for being upset. He’s just like those people that Patrick swore he’d never be like, the people who were too blind, too stupid, too self-absorbed to see that David Rose is a fucking miracle. That he loves so intensely and is fiercely loyal and doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice his well-being if he thinks it’ll make somebody he loves happy. 

“David, I’m sorry,” he says again in a whisper. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t think that.”

“I know.” David’s voice is a little less hard now. He can see the anguish and shame and penitence on Patrick’s face. He _knows_ Patrick didn’t mean it. He believes him when he says he’s sorry. 

And no matter what’s going on in Patrick’s mind right now, David doesn’t think Patrick is like all those people from his past. One cruel, thoughtless remark isn’t the same as repeated patterns of sharp words and abuse. Patrick is good and kind and gentle. And he loves him. None of this makes what Patrick said okay. But it does make it different. 

David sighs. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay. Um. With—with me or—?”

“Yes. With you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I deserve it.”

“But I love you anyway.”

Patrick can’t hold in the choked sob that’s been knotted in the back of his throat, and he’s even more powerless against it when David reaches out and pulls Patrick against his chest. 

Patrick winds his arms around David’s waist, holding him tightly. “I love you so much, David,” he says, his voice muffled against David’s neck. “You—you are all that matters to me.”

“I know.” David kisses Patrick’s forehead. “Let’s go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Okay,” Patrick says, and follows David to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Here You Come Again" by Dolly Parton


End file.
